May I?
by Defilia
Summary: Nothing like dancing the way we used to. Denmark/Norway


And then I feel his hand on my back, radiating warmth through the fabric of those thin pyjamas. It was only at that moment that I realized how cold I had been the entire evening. My eyes snap up, confusion probably plastered all over my features because all Denmark does is grin. Then again, he always does that. Stupid idiot, always smiling at life as if he's too ignorant to see that what's really going on isn't anything to smile about.

The grin slowly morphs into something that I reluctantly call an honest smile as he gingerly takes hold on my hand. His thumb slowly moves, caresses even and I can't help but look at how they fit perfectly into each other, like they have done for centuries now.

I don't even want to admit how long it took for me to avert my gaze from our hands back to him. He has started moving now, ever so slowly in a way I didn't think he was ever capable of. But here he is, slowly rocking back and forth, bare feet only moving an inch or so every once and a while on the carpet. His eyes are closed but he doesn't seem to be concentrating. Why would he even, really…but it gives me the opportunity to watch him more closely without any remarks of questions rolling out of his mouth. He looks calm, genuinely happy the way his eyebrows are raised and with those little wrinkles at his eyes that betray his true age; indicate the centuries he has lived trough.

And then suddenly he turns us around in one fluid motion. My feet barely keep up with the unexpected movement and to my great annoyance he's even able to see that coming; holding me up before I tumble to the ground.

It is only then that I realize what we're doing.

"What are you doing?" I ask him anyway, not even sure if he's aware of it himself.

Denmark just chuckles, eyes still closed as his feet now start moving in a pattern, both hands now holding onto mine. It still isn't something I completely recognize but all I do know is that we're moving like ripples on an ocean.

"Why? Isn't it obvious?" He replies. His eyes are finally open and his head tilts to his right a little. Damn that ridiculous face of his and how I want to kiss that smile off of it.

I frown, almost feeling annoyed that I can't figure out the steps.  
"Well…yes but what is this?"

I can't help but notice how his eyes start sparkling a little in the way they used to when he had declared that he had seen a mermaid back in the days.

"A little something my people taught me. Isn't it amazing?"

He's obviously beaming, horribly proud of this twirling thing that somehow passed as a waltz in commoner's eyes. He used to do that a lot: sneak out of the castle after discarding his royal clothing and just enjoy the company of the people in the villages under the illusion that he was human. It isn't hard to imagine the giggles of small farmer girls as he asks them to dance with him, toothy smile in place on that freckled face of his or the twirling skirts as he turns them around.

Still…I have to admit that this is kinda nice. With some violins this dance could truly come to life among the crowd of laughing people.  
I admire the way this dance makes him move gracefully. The way he slowly lifts my arms up to the side as if it's moves together with the wind or how he bows his head a little every time he takes a step back from me. I was never a truly social person; I didn't question the order to stay with the royal family at all costs as they kept us as their pets, safe from the gaze of every commoner. But Denmark…He almost always got caught when he slipped his way back inside through the gates and after every scolding he never regretted it and went back as soon as the opportunity presented itself again.  
I allow a little smile to creep on my face as I look away from him. "I suppose so."  
He raises an eyebrow at me and for some reason can't help but chuckle again.

"Oh, so my Norge wants it fancy huh?"

"That's not what I mea-"

Of course he cuts me off, like he always does and stops moving. It's a shame, almost but the idea gets discarded immediately.  
"Let me see, how did this one work."

His takes hold of me decently again as he ponders, the palm of his hand on my back, the other lightly holding onto mine. From there on Denmark decides to twirl me around the room and I feel embarrassed of how ridiculous it must look without music. I can't deny that he clearly remembers how to perform a decent Viennese waltz though while I have to stare at my feet to watch where I'm going. God he enjoying himself way too much with this and I hate how good he masters it is after all this time when I can catch myself on being too slow a few times.

"Remember?"

My eyes go back to him, staring in confusing for an explanation.

"1905. How amazing you looked that day. God I couldn't take my eyes off of you…You you were just beaming. I don't even think I ever saw you that happy in your whole life. My, our Norge, independent. And how I claimed myself the luckiest nation in the world when you accepted my offer to dance with you that evening."

Again I catch myself smiling, even blushing a little with the way he talks or better; reliving the moment. His hand takes hold of mine a bit more firmly before he dips down to place a small and almost innocent kiss on my lips.

Of course, the second he pulls away he has to ruin the moment by talking again.  
"And wauw the look on Sverige's face, best of the fucking century."

That's the moment where I want to cut in, tell him to stop acting dumb by dragging Sweden into this moment and congratulate him for being such an insensitive idiot but I swallow my complaints again as I hear his next words.

"Because I didn't care that you didn't belong to me anymore. Hell how could I after seeing that gorgeous look on your face? No, I didn't care because you allowed me to share that moment of happiness with you. Best waltz of my life."

"Isn't that an exaggeration? " I retort, smile gone again even though it's just a matter of seconds in a situation like this. Denmark stops turning, and even moving in general; leaving us in the middle of the room. We're both a little out of breath but neither of us want to acknowledge that really so instead there is this mutual, silent agreement to just look at each other.

"No, not at all." He whispers before he pulls me into a much deeper kiss than the previous one.

His hand is still on my back, radiating warmth like it always does.

* * *

**notes:**

don't mind me, it's 3 in the morning and felt like it. I'm terribly sorry for historical inaccuracies but i just kept on writing without looking stuff up.

Maybe a bit of an explanation on some things though:  
I share a headcanon with a friend that back in the monarch days the royal families liked to keep the nations to themselves, locked up in the palace to enjoy the company of the royals only. That they were seen as a gift that just got passed on from generation to generation, friends who were always by their sides.  
I imagine this especially being the case during the plague, that nations weren't allowed on the streets. I mean, most of them were still kids back then (except for the Nordics of course but anyway)

Denmark wears the most fancy armor and clothing during the middle ages and i can't help but imagine him sneaking out while wearing commoner's clothes and just be around his own people on the streets, even participating in some folk dancing. In my headcanon he's the only one of the Nordics who knows those dances while the others only knew traditional waltzes.

But that's just me, feel free to disagree  
hope you like it


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